Losing Honor In Literary Devices
by missed the train
Summary: She had no honor. At least not the real kind. Rory's life after her visit from Truncheon. This chapter, she decides to go back. LITERATI. Chapter 3 is up! Read and Review, please!
1. Chapter 1

**Losing Honor In Literary Devices**

**Disclaimer: I am no way affiliated with Gilmore Girls. The show belongs to the CW. I am no was affiliated with Rory or Jess, Milo Ventimiglia or Alexis Bledel. Or Homer's Illiad or Odyssey. This is simply a fan fiction.**

**Just for all of you who haven't read it, this fic refers back to a lot of stuff in Homer's Illiad and Odyssey. The books describing the Trojan War, and Odysseus's journeys after it trying to return back to his wife Penelope, and home Ithica. **

**Hope you enjoy. Review! **

**Here we go…**

We have no honor. At least not like the ancient stories that have become literary classics, only to gather dust while sitting on a lonely shelf.

Honor is lost on us. Honor was long forgotten when self pride over-bore on it. What happened to Homer's characters in the ancient wars of Troy? The honor for country, the honor for other people, for custom and culture? The honor of the ancient knights that surrounded the great round table? The honor that would lead doomed men into battle to die for it? Honor was definitely lost.

All these thoughts ran through Rory's head while she pulled her car out from Truncheon. Rory and Jess were one of those warriors. Jess, the great Achilles, while Rory was Hector. Achilles was much stronger, and more willing than Hector. She found herself torn. They were fully suited, armor on, spear in hand, running towards each other before quickly turning back, afraid, because they knew that they would destroy each other in the end.

They had no honor.

Being afraid to jump into battle, to take the plunge just proved this. Twisting the knife in her gut a little further, digging into her sides, and pouring her insecurities out onto the floor for all to see. It was shame, and it was disgrace.

The Odyssey, she found, had more things in common with them than The Iliad. She was Penelope, he was Odysseus. Together for eternity, forever apart. He was out living, traveling, and taking journeys all around their ancient world, while she sat stuck, and waiting for something that may never come, weaving slowly the past and balling up her fists because suddenly she feels as if she can't breath, before realizing that she has to.

Forever together. Forever apart.

It was a long drive back to New Haven, about three hours. Secretly, she knew exactly how many miles it was, but would never admit it, because that would mean having to pick up that spear; a task she was unwilling to do.

She walked up the stairs to their apartment. Logan's apartment. Slowly, step by step, climbing to the top. A wounded soldier looking for refuge. Sadly, she knew that she wouldn't receive it. At least not this night. Placing the key in the lock, she twisted the steel between her fingers before hearing a click.

Entering the room, she smelled alcohol, and a perfume that she immediately knew wasn't hers. Her stomach twisted in knots. Partially because of the nauseating smell, and partially because her prince was a male version of Helen.

He had no honor.

He wasn't there. She didn't expect him to be. She knew he was cheating on her, but she had become oblivious. She found she had to just to make it through the day. The smell of his cologne, and the mystery woman mixed together, and entered her nose. She found herself Penelope again, fists twisting, before being forced to take in another breath.

She glanced around the room. Eyes falling on all the things that she never wanted, turning her into someone she never wanted to be. Her eyes landed on the suit of armor in the corner of the room. It stood tall, strong and sturdy, holding a sword of protection from the outside enemies.

She felt it. The plated steel cool against her fingers giving her that counterfeit sense of honor. It was a fake knight. Not like the ones that were strong, make of flesh and bone. This one was hollow, flimsy, and disgraceful. It reminded her of herself.

She glided across the room to the phone. She picked it up, hands shaking. Dialing an unfamiliar number. She waited. Three rings, and she was about to hang up when his voice traveled hundreds of miles to her ears.

"Hello?" His voice was calm, full of sleep.

She lost her voice. Gasping for breath and taking in the nausea that surrounded the room, her head spun, and her eyes snapped shut.

He patiently waited for an answer, until she heard his breathing getting slightly heavier, slightly faster paced and she knew he was becoming annoyed.

"I think I'm in need of a poet, also. I don't know what to say." She softly spoke into the plastic, her labored breathing making static on the other line.

"Rory?" She knew that he was aware that it was her the entire time, but he needed the confirmation.

"Yes." She relied softly back. "I'm sorry. About what I said before, what I did. You're right, you're totally right. You don't deserve it. I had no right to-"

He cut her of with a forgiven apology, and she smiled.

"Look, Rory. I have to go. Call me sometime, okay?" His voice was hopeful.

Rory replied with a promise to call before hanging up the phone.

Forever together. Forever apart.

She had no honor. She left that spear in the back of her mind, gathering dust as it patiently waited.

Oblivious.

Okay, so I didn't want to make this just another oneshot, and I guess that I could make it a multichapter for ya'll if I get enough reviews. That is key though. If I don't get enough reviews, I will definitely move on, and think of something else. So if you want to see a continuation, please, please, please review! Thanks so much!

- missed the train


	2. Chapter 2

**Losing Honor In Literary Devices**

**Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: I am no way affiliated with Gilmore Girls. The show belongs to the CW. I am no was affiliated with Rory or Jess, Milo Ventimiglia or Alexis Bledel. Or Homer's Illiad or Odyssey. This is simply a fan fiction.**

**Just for all of you who haven't read it, this fic refers back to a lot of stuff in Homer's Illiad and Odyssey. The books describing the Trojan War, and Odysseus's journeys after it trying to return back to his wife Penelope, and home Ithica. **

**Thanks for all of the support for this fic!**

She didn't sleep well that night. She hasn't known the feeling of sleep in a long while. Too long. The musk still filled her lungs, suffocating her as she tried to sleep. Fingers wrapped around blankets, turning her knuckles white as she gasped for air, biting the covers between her teeth until her jaw hurt.

She had no honor. But yet, we have already established that.

She woke up alone, just like how she had gone to sleep. The covers on the other side of the bed were neatly made, cold, and lonely. Kind of like her. She raise out of the blanket cocoon that she had buried herself in just to have the cold air rush to her body, wrapping around her, tensing her muscles.

She walked into the living room, bare feet leaving the carpet and plodding across the wooden floor. The answering machine flashed red, and there were three new messages on it. Rubbing her eyes in a desperate act to vanquish the sleep that resided there, she traveled to where the plastic box sat atop a bookshelf.

It took up the space where classics were supposed to dwell. Not that she ever had time to read anymore. She hadn't lost herself in a good book since he left her. But never mind that. She made a mental note to replace the books that used to be there.

She solemnly hit the button to play the messages. All three of them were from Logan. One telling her that he wouldn't be home last night – surprise there, one just to "check up on her"- doubtful, and another saying that he had to work late again tonight – right, the kind of work that would leave you satisfied, with a random woman's hair tangled in your fingers.

She deleted them with the push of a button, and walked over to the bathroom. The granite tiles were cold against her feet, and she stood in front of the mirror. Her eyes were dark, and shaded over. Her lips were chapped and her hair was mangled. The oversized t-shirt hung limply around her body. Her skin was pale, and it displayed her freckles clearly.

She thought this must have been how Odysseus looked when he dressed up as a beggar to disguise himself from the people of Ithica. Rory, although did this to disguise herself from the person she had become.

She turned on the water. The bathroom immediately clouded from the steam that was being generated from the shower. She pulled the shirt over her head, it getting lost in a nearby corner. It exposed her bare back. She was thin. Each of her ribs were clearly visible. She hadn't felt like eating lately. It required too much energy.

She thought that it might be depression. But depressed people don't know they are depressed, do they? Something about denial. She remembers reading it in some magazine while waiting for Logan to get home. She waits too much. Again she is Penelope, weaving that blanket alone in a corner, with no one to help her.

The water pours down her skin, scorching the porcelain as it traveled down the curves of her shoulders to her lower back. Mascara from the previous night cascaded down her face, and burned her eyes.

She stepped out. Her auburn hair snaked around her face, dripping water from the ends to the floor. She stood in front of the mirror once again; this time the steam had hidden her, to where she only sees white. She is a ghost. Or at least she has become one, she can no longer see herself. She brings up her hand to the mirror, and steadily draws lines, and slowly, she can see herself again. Not that she wanted to.

She got dressed, and sat down on the couch. It was stiff, not well worn in. The phone sat across from her on the coffee table. It taunted her. She knew she made a promise to cal him, but she was scared. She didn't now what to say. Their last conversation clearly demonstrated that.

That spear in the back of her mind taunted her. It constantly told her she had no honor, and her only response to it was to push it further back into her mind, proving its point. Finally she grabbed the phone, and dialed the number until her fingers froze at the last button. The door of the apartment swung open, and Logan stood in the doorway.

She quickly hit the end button, and threw the phone onto the other side of the couch. Something always stood in their way.

Forever together. Forever apart.

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, with a smug smirk plastered on his face. He thinks that he is suave, but the only person that she knows that can flawlessly pull of that smirk is the man that she refuses to battle. Achilles.

"Hey Ace." She silently cringed at the nickname. She hated it, but it had made him happy, so she let it go. He walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her frail body. She stiffened at his touch, and snapped her eyes shut.

He wasn't supposed to be there today. According to his message, he wasn't supposed to be there until tomorrow evening. She, although was smart enough not to bring it up, knowing that it would just start another fight. So she let it go.

Oblivious.

Her hair was still damp, and it left his shirt moist when he finally let her go. She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, before taking her seat back on the couch. She picked up the phone, and caressed it, acting like it was her last possession on earth, and smiled.

Logan eyed her, confusion written on his features. He had gotten past asking her why she did things. He walked into the bedroom, grabbing a bag before returning to stand in front of Rory.

"I'm going out tonight. Don't expect me back until tomorrow sometime. I'll call to check up on you. Okay?" He asked her, placing a small kiss on her cheek. Her face burned, and he turned to walk out the doorway, closing the door behind him. He probably didn't even know that she didn't speak one word to him, yet alone why.

Her hands were shaky this time when she dialed the number. She held the phone to her ear when he picked up. Her voice was small.

"Jess, I need help." She spoke slowly into the phone; her eyes were shut, silently praying that he would say something; anything.

All the while that spear had dusted itself off, and had moved somewhat before returning to its original place, only to be slightly less dusty.

She was in dire need of a backbone.

**Okay, I don't like it as much as the first chapter, but I felt the story needed this as a base for what is coming up. Sorry about the slight Logan bashing. I am a total Lit shipper. So once again, sorry. Thank you for all your reviews! I'll update again when I can, and if I get enough reviews. Thanks! Review!**

**-missed the train **


	3. Chapter 3

**Losing Honor In Literary Devices**

**Disclaimer: I am no way affiliated with Gilmore Girls. The show belongs to the CW. I am no was affiliated with Rory or Jess, Milo Ventimiglia or Alexis Bledel. **

**Hope you enjoy. Review!**

One hand curled around the cushions on the couch, while the other gripped the phone tighter to her ear, hearing the sound of his voice, whispering sweet nothings that steadied her breath and calmed her muscles.

He knew exactly what to say to her to still her, although she could not completely comprehend all that he was saying, it was calming her in a way that nothing else could. Not books, not music, and certainly not Logan. It was Jess, fully and untainted.

He read to her. Passages that seemed all too familiar, yet so far away. He told her that she was wonderful, he told her anything that she needed to hear. Some things were so far off that she couldn't believe them, while others she willed herself to believe.

She sat listening to him speak without saying a word for about an hour. Her hair was almost fully dry. She thought about talking to him, expunging the one-way conversation, but decided against it, knowing that it would just bring up a topic that both were getting very good at avoiding.

"Rory?" He asked. She bit her lip. Crimson spilled into her mouth leaving a metallic taste that coated her tongue.

"Yeah?" she asked. She shut her eyes, concentrating solely on the taste that resided in her mouth.

"I have talked for over an hour, and you haven't said anything. You called, I asked no questions, but what have we talked about? Books? Music? Nothing important. Why did you call?

It was a reasonable question; she just didn't have an answer for it.

"Jess, I just needed to talk to you. To hear you, I guess."

"Why me?" He asked, pushing a little bit further being careful not to push her over the edge, because he wouldn't be there to catch her.

"Because, like you said, Jess. You know me better than anyone. Besides, why do you think I called you?" She spoke only above a whisper. She was in so deep that she couldn't believe that she was complicating things by talking to Jess.

She was only trying to fix everything, though.

"I don't know you anymore, Rory." He spoke sadly into the phone. It was only half-truth because he did know the real Rory, just not this mask that she had pulled over her face thinking that she wasn't good enough, before it slowly molded into her face suffocating her real self.

"I know. Jess, I don't know me anymore. How did you do it all by yourself? How did you fix yourself?" She was rambling to herself more than to him.

"Well, lets just say I had a lot of support." He smiled sadly into the phone.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Jess." She spoke into the phone. He had thanked her when he showed her his book a while ago, and maybe she did deserve some credit, because she had shown him that he really could be better, but she didn't deserve all the credit. Jess saw what he needed to do, and did it. She couldn't say this for herself.

"Rory, you still with Logan?" He asked her. Last time he had seen her she had told him that she still loved Logan. Jess had felt like his heart was being ripped out as the words traveled from her lips to his ears. He did his best to keep the disappointment off his face by cracking light jokes.

"I mean, yeah he still introduces me as his girlfriend, and-"

"Rory, are you still with him, or not." He quickly cut her off.

"Yeah." She said quickly into the phone, hoping that if she said it fast enough it would stay unheard.

"I'm still waiting." He told her. It wasn't mean or angry, just stating that he was getting tired of being dragged back and forth.

"I know, Jess. Look, could we possibly meet for coffee or something?"

"What? Meeting didn't go so well last time. Besides, I'm in Philly, you're in New Haven."

"Fine, I'll come down to Philly for the weekend." Rory stated confidently.

"Why are you so set on this, Rory?"

"I don't know! I don't know, anymore."

"Enough with the pity-plea, Rory; I'm getting tired of hearing it." His voice was lacing with anger.

"I'm sorry." She apologized at him once again, her voice losing some confidence as it traveled the through the air to his ears.

"This is crazy," he told her. She shut her eyes and a clock behind her eyelids appeared, it desperately reminding her that her time was up.

"Can I come to Truncheon?" she asked. She pleaded in her mind for him to agree.

"I can't stop you," was his reply instead. She couldn't blame him though.

"Alright, I'll see you soon?" She asked. He nodded, and she hung up the phone.

---

Rory walked to the bathroom, and pulled up her hair in a sloppy, lop sided bun on her head.

She applied some makeup, and walked to their bedroom, and opened a window to get that nasty perfume that resided in the air to clear.

She packed a bag, mostly books that she though she should read again, and some clothes for the weekend.

She still didn't know exactly why she was traveling all the way down to Philadelphia, but as corny as it sounds, she felt as if she was being drawn there.

She scribbled down a note to leave for Logan and attached it to the key he had given her in case he worried-doubtful, and shut the door of the apartment, taking one last look in before locking it, and sliding the key back under the door with the note still attached. This way, nothing could stop her because she had no way of getting back in.

She adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder, and walked down the steps into the front lobby and through he double doors, finding her car in the overcrowded parking lot, and taking a seat in it.

She let out a breath, and picked an old CD that she had received as a present about four years ago from Jess. It was the Distillers, from when they went and saw their concert.

She started her car, and it roared to life as she pulled out of the parking lot, and started the long drive to Pennsylvania.

---

It was many hours before she saw that familiar building, with the aged bricks. Truncheon stood tall as the sun was setting behind it.

Rory parked her car, and sat in it for a couple of minutes, contemplating what she should do. She had gotten this far, might as well go in, she finally decided.

She grabbed her bag, and walked up to the doors. They were huge and intimidating, probably made out of oak, she silently thought to herself.

She pushed the door open, and looked around. Slowly, her eyes came to a figure standing in the corner of the room, book in hand, gel in hair. He hadn't looked at her yet, but she knew that he knew she was in the room. Something about the environment changed in that moment, and his eyes detached themselves from the book, and traveled up to meet hers.

She stood by the doorway, frozen, afraid to move.

Just when that spear had made it to her hands, she dropped it, and it rolled across the floor, gathering more dust.

That honor stuff was in short supply.

---

_**So, love it? Hate it? Tell me. I have already written the ending for this fic, but it will be a long while before this story is done, so don't worry.**_

_**Also, sorry for making Jess kind of snappy when they were talking on the phone, but think about it: if your ex girlfriend who acts like Rory does, called you after telling you that she was still in love with someone else, I would be a little angry. **_

_**Thanks. Please R&R!**_

_**-Missed the Train**_


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